


scavenged

by starstrung



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Dog Tags, Other, sex as payment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 03:05:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5611495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starstrung/pseuds/starstrung
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s still weak from the torture - not just the physical part of it, which was easy enough to endure, but what came after. His head rings with Kylo Ren’s influence, harsh echoes of it making shambles of his thoughts. It feels like every quiet corner of his mind has been turned over, examined, violated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	scavenged

Poe tastes sand and ash, hears a violent ringing in his ears, and then something sharp digs into his back.

The sudden pain pulls him firmly into consciousness and he jerks himself upright to sit on his heels, sand sticky with his sweat and blood clinging to his face. Around him, about a dozen vulture-like creatures watch him closely, their strange bald heads giving way to filthy feathered bodies. The closest one to him must have been the one to hook its beak into his back.

The creatures smell unmistakably of carrion and dead flesh, and Poe wonders uncomfortably whether they have been waiting for him to die, so that they could eat their fill.

He stands up and waves his arms, makes as much noise as he can. “I’m alive! You can’t have me!” he tries to yell, but his throat feels cracked open with thirst, and all that emerges is a savage rasp. He looks around for his jacket in the wreckage so he can at least use it to flap it at them, but he doesn’t see it. 

Luckily, the vultures seem to take the hint and they fly away, leaving behind that nightmarish stink. If he had anything in his stomach, he would probably have emptied its contents by now. 

Poe needs to find BB-8. First, he salvages as many useful looking parts as he can from the wreckage, stuffing the small ones into his pockets and leaving the larger ones behind. Things like these are currency on planets like Jakku, and he might need to use them to barter a way off this forsaken planet.

He stands and tries to get his bearings back, eyes stinging from the smoke that’s still coming off the wreckage. Then, with a great sinking of his heart, he remembers the Stormtrooper that helped him escape.

Finn. His name is Finn, he reminds himself.

Poe breaks out into a run, lungs still smarting from the ash in the air, and finds a hill. In the failing light, all he can see is an endless span of desert, and a small, distant town gleaming in the dark.

No sign of Finn, or even the rest of the TIE wreckage. Guilt spears through him. If he hadn’t tried to go back to Jakku, if he had listened to Finn, maybe this wouldn’t have happened. 

He notices that there’s no sign of another group of those vulture creatures either - which means no other body. It could mean a million things, but right now, Poe needs that hope, more than he needs to be right. So he chooses to believe that Finn made it.

He’s still weak from the torture - not just the physical part of it, which was easy enough to endure, but what came after. His head rings with Kylo Ren’s influence, harsh echoes of it making shambles of his thoughts. It feels like every quiet corner of his mind has been turned over, examined, violated. Just remembering it is enough to make him feel like his legs are about to collapse under his weight.

Overhead, the vultures still circle, waiting to see if he’ll fall to his knees. 

“Not gonna give you the pleasure of an easy meal, fellas,” he says through gritted teeth, and begins to walk.

The vultures follow.

-

The town is farther than it looks. On top of that, the lifeless desert gives him too much time to think, and too much time to poke at the wounds Kylo Ren’s interrogation left in his mind. He doesn’t know much about the Force, but he does know that sometimes, a hurt needs to be left alone to heal. 

Also, his legs? Not doing such a good job. He staggers a few times in the sand, and each time, the tower of vulture creatures revolving overhead seem to hiss in anticipation. He wonders how long they’re going to follow him.

The sound of a speeder coming in his direction makes him turn his head, wincing as the movement pulls on some injury he must have gotten during the interrogation.

The speeder belongs to a scavenger, belonging to a species that Poe hasn’t seen before - wiry long limbs and leathery skin so dark it’s nearly blue. They stop a few paces ahead, take one look at the circling vultures, and in one smooth movement, fire a blaster into the sky. The vultures scatter, honking angrily.

“Thanks,” Poe rasps. The scavenger stares at him, and if they understand what Poe said, they don’t show it. Goggles obscure their eyes, making it impossible for him to parse out any emotions he might find there.

“Water?” he asks hopefully, and mimes a drinking motion.

The scavenger continues to stare at him. They have their blaster resting on their thigh, one finger still on the trigger. They lean forward, and for a frantic second, Poe thinks they’re going to shoot, but instead, they toss a water skin at him.

It sloshes heavy in his hand, and it’s the most beautiful sound Poe’s ever heard, second only to the sound of an X-Wing firing up. He drinks deeply, but doesn’t drain it, even though he could if he wanted to. He’s thirsty but he’s not  _ rude _ .

Poe might not be working at full capacity right now, but he definitely doesn’t miss the way the scavenger follows the line of his throat with their eyes as he drinks, watches intently as Poe licks at his lips to spread moisture to the chapped skin there. So that’s how it is.

He throws the skin back. His arm goes limp with a sudden jolt of pain halfway through the movement, and the throw goes wild, but the scavenger leans forward on their speeder and catches it, another smooth movement that’s almost too fast for Poe to catch.

“I need to find a droid. A BB-8 unit,” he says. “And then I need to get off this planet. Think you could take me to that town?” Poe points into the distance, hoping that the scavenger speaks some Basic. 

The scavenger looks Poe up and down, too deliberate to be anything but interest, and it makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. The attention is a little flattering, he thinks, considering he looks so half-dead that the vultures consider him their next meal.

“I will,” the scavenger answers, clipped and careful Basic in a voice that sounds like a thrumming engine. “In return,” they continue, and point a long finger at Poe. 

Poe considers it, and then nods. He’s done worse, and if this is what gets the map to Luke Skywalker back to the General the quickest, then this is his best shot. 

And he’d be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t curious.

The scavenger scoots forward on his speeder, which looks to be just a few steps ahead of the scrap metal that the scavenger is carrying. Poe lifts himself up onto it, sitting behind the scavenger, and tries not to think too hard about what he’s agreed to do.

-

The scavenger stops the speeder outside of a hut. “Hut” is a kind word, since it’s more tarp and salvaged wreckage that’s been fashioned into a rudimentary shelter than anything else. Poe follows the scavenger inside, and watches as they light a lamp.

The hut is covered in a strange collection of droid parts and tools, and Poe surmises that the scavenger works on repairing old droids, and then sells them in the market. He automatically searches for a BB-8 unit, but he doesn’t find anything resembling his friend. He’s not sure whether he should be relieved or disappointed.

“Nice place you got,” he says, and turns around, only to find that the scavenger has completely undressed while he was taking stock of his surroundings.

“Okay. That was fast,” Poe says, unprepared. He backs up instinctively and the back of his hips comes up against the hut’s work table. 

Now that the scavenger isn’t bent over a speeder, Poe sees that they’re taller than he is, and built of sinewy muscle. He’s not sure what to do with his eyes, but he steels himself and looks down anyway. “That’s - yeah, definitely haven’t seen one of those before,” he says. “Not that I’m complaining! Always willing to try new things.” 

Ever since he can remember, Poe’s always had the habit of talking fast when he doesn’t know what else to do. It’s his way of feigning confidence, even though his smart mouth has gotten him into trouble almost as often as it’s gotten him out of it. He talked back when he was being held hostage by Kylo Ren (not his best idea, he’ll admit), and it’s nice to see that reckless stupidity hasn’t been beaten out of him. 

Poe firmly pushes away thoughts of the interrogation. If there’s one good thing to come from letting an alien scavenger fuck him in return for a ride, it’s that it’ll provide a distraction from everything the First Order did to him.

The scavenger watches him speak, and then makes a sound of impatience. They come forward and tug at his clothing, and not too gently either.

“I get it, I get it,” Poe tells them, shrugging out of his shirt before the scavenger can rip it. He does it slowly as to not exacerbate his injuries, and the scavenger begins to pull at his pants as well.

“Hold on, pal, that’s not how it works. Give me a second,” Poe says, moving away inquiring hands so that he can unbuckle his belt himself. 

The scavenger pulls their goggles up, revealing a pair of round, dark eyes. They hook their fingers into the chain of Poe’s dog tag, pulling it up to their face to study curiously. Poe has no choice but to lean forward so that the chain doesn’t dig into the back of his neck, and he is brought uncomfortably close to those wide, luminous eyes. 

The scavenger traces the emblem of the Resistance that is etched clearly into the back of the dog tag, and Poe tries not to wince. He usually hides it under his clothes to avoid any unwanted attention, especially when he’s trying to keep a low profile. Hopefully, this scavenger isn’t a spy for the First Order.

“That stays on,” he tells the scavenger. He has no reason to believe that they understand his words. 

The dog tag is made of ordinary scrap metal and doesn’t look at all valuable, but he still relaxes in relief when the scavenger leaves it alone. If he dies here on this desolate planet, he’d rather not end up as some poor, unidentified corpse. He thinks of vultures, and tries not to shiver. 

No longer curious about his tag, the scavenger begins to run hands up his chest, strokes over an arm, prods at sore ribs (Poe hisses out a breath at this, but the scavenger pays no mind). Rough, leathery fingers find a nipple and Poe is so surprised that he can’t help but arch into the touch, startling the scavenger.

“Sorry, sorry,” Poe apologizes quickly. “I’ve always been kind of sensitive there,” Poe explains, aware that he’s probably red-faced right now. The scavenger responds by dragging fingers across his other nipple, deliberate and heavy, eyes keenly watching his face.

Poe lets out a sharp breath. “Yeah, that one too. Both - both sensitive.” The scavenger continues to rub in slow circles, seeming fascinated by his reaction, and Poe has to pull away. “All right buddy, let me finish taking my clothes off, will you?” His voice sounds desperate in his own ears, and he really hopes the scavenger doesn’t pick up on it.

Poe steps out of his pants and underwear, and tosses them into a pile with his discarded shirt. The cool air raises goosebumps up his skin.

He’s been half hard ever since getting onto the speeder, but things are progressing. Something about the sharp way the scavenger is watching every move with those alien eyes is making his blood run hot. His mouth is suddenly dry once again. 

The scavenger continues his examination of Poe, running hands up his thighs to dig into the flesh of his ass, taking the heavy weight of Poe’s cock in his palm, swiping over the moisture beading at the tip. Poe grits his teeth, and tries not to make any embarrassing noises.

Seeming satisfied by what they find, the scavenger takes a bottle off a nearby shelf and tosses it to Poe.

“What’s this?” Poe asks, catching it. The cap of the bottle is loose, and a thick, oily substance drips into his palm.

“Oh,” Poe says, realization dawning. He looks up at the scavenger, who seems to be waiting for him to continue. “I take it you’ve done this before, then. You’re certainly prepared.”

The scavenger makes another impatient noise, this time louder.

“Okay, all right, keep your goggles on,” Poe says, opening the bottle. He pours the substance onto his fingers, and then turns so that his back is to the scavenger. Using one hand on the table to balance himself, he spreads his legs and inserts a finger, stretching himself open.

The scavenger watches with interest for a while, seeming content to observe as Poe works one finger, then two, into himself. But after a while, they come forward, hands tracing the muscles on Poe’s back, the old scars that line it, the fresh bruises that discolor the skin. It’s a strange blend between the pleasure he feels at being petted by those rough hands, and pain as the scavenger’s fingers dig into tender flesh, more inquisitive than gentle.

Poe is up to three fingers, legs protesting at being made to hold his weight for so long, before the scavenger stops him, moving Poe’s hands so that they rest flat on the table. They take Poe’s hips in their hands, and Poe has time to feel relief that the new position doesn’t have him resting his weight on his legs before the scavenger pushes in.

“Woah, woah,” Poe says, rocked forward by the movement. Kriff, but they’re  _ big _ , stretching him open until he feels full with it. The scavenger bottoms out, so slow that Poe’s eyes are rolling back in his head, and then pulls out just as slow. The scavenger doesn’t say a word, not even in their own language, which makes Poe all the more desperate.

“No, no, no, come on. Just do it, just fuck me.” He should be embarrassed that he’s already been reduced to begging, but in his defense, he’s kind of had a crappy day. He needs this release more than anything, and he needs this asshole to  _ stop teasing _ .

The scavenger gets the message, or maybe they’re still impatient, because they snap their hips forward again, making the table underneath Poe’s hands creak and his dog tag slap up against his chest. They pull back, and then push forward again, building up to a rhythm. Poe takes one palm off of the table so he can fuck into his own hand. He’s already close.

“You’re really - oh, hell. I wasn’t expecting this, I -  _ yes _ .” Poe hasn’t been told to shut up yet, so he keeps up a steady stream of nonsense as he’s rocked up on to the table, dog tag swaying against his skin with every thrust.

The scavenger has crowded over him as they fuck him, their breath hot and wet against his shoulder. Fingers tangle roughly in his hair to pull his head back, and without any warning, slender, sharp teeth are dragging over the thin skin at the base of his throat. The sudden, pricking pain surprises him so much that he’s coming in stripes across the work table, breathing going ragged. 

Those hands return to his hips and the pace builds after that, the scavenger not seeming to mind that Poe has practically gone limp in his hands. He’s too strung out to even talk anymore. The scavenger says something in a rumbling, unfamiliar language, and then they’re coming as well, fingers tightening with bruising pressure around Poe’s hips.

The scavenger releases him, and Poe collapses against the work table, trying to catch his breath. He feels lightheaded, and he has to blink a few times to clear his vision.

The next thing he knows, the scavenger is passing him a rag soaked in water. Poe nods gratefully, and cleans himself up as best as he can. The scavenger has finished dressing, blaster settled once more against their hip. Poe puts his clothes back on under their watchful eye making sure to tuck his dog tag back under his shirt.

“I’m ready,” he says. 

The scavenger puts their goggles back down over their eyes, and Poe follows them back out toward the speeder.

He gets dropped off at the edge of town, the scavenger riding away without a backwards glance, and tries not to limp too noticeably as he walks into the market. 

Night has fallen, and people are mostly packing up their wares and clearing out, getting back home. He asks around and finds out that BB-8 was seen leaving the planet, along with a girl and a man that matches Finn’s description. 

Poe can’t help grinning at the news. Finn’s alive, and he has BB-8! He barely knows the guy, but somehow, he still trusts Finn to complete his mission. After all, he only suffered under the First Order’s hold for a few hours. Finn has lived his entire  _ life  _ with them, and he still decided to do the right thing. If there’s anyone Poe can trust to deliver the map to Luke Skywalker, it’s Finn.

Feeling lighter than he has in weeks, he barters away the parts he salvaged from the TIE fighter, and is able to send a message to the Resistance base, letting him know his location so that they can pick him up.

He’s relieved to finally leave Jakku behind, but he’s certain that memories of this planet will stay with him long after he leaves.

**Author's Note:**

> My [tumblr](http://www.shadowsbroker.tumblr.com).


End file.
